


the way I would take you

by manslaughter



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Sex, erotic birth, labour fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manslaughter/pseuds/manslaughter
Summary: This is from one of my favorite rape roleplay/ forced impreg blogs that got deleted by the tumblr purge. Heed the tags!





	the way I would take you

I wouldn’t just rape you. That’s something too impersonal, too short lived. Yes, it would be horrifying and traumatic, but there’s a chance you would heal from it, move on, be productive.

No, I would want to violate you down to your very essence, your most base desires.

I would force those sexy legs open as you fought and screamed, guide my tip right against your opening. Then I would make sure your arms were pinned, place my head right next to your ear, and tell you the truth. Bluntly, with no room for misunderstanding.

“In nine months from today, you’re going to be laying just like this. My bastard is going to take root in your belly here and now, and nine months from today you’re going to give me a child, just like you’re meant to.”

I would push into then. Not fast and brutal. Anyone can mindlessly fuck a hole. No no, I would let you feel every bit of me sinking into your body as you shudder and convulse. Let you savor as I go deeper, stimulating you against your will. Pinning you down, filling you against your will, the tip of my member nudging against the opening of your cervix.

Then back out, just as deliberately. A little faster as I slide back inside, now using one hand to pin both of your arms as I lift your shirt, running my hand over your belly. “I can’t wait to see you swell up with my rape baby…” I’ll growl as I bottom out again.

I won’t brutalize you. There’s no fun in that. I’ll make you feel sooo good as I do the worst thing that a man can do to a woman to you. Faster and faster, building up in intensity with each thrust.

I’ll see your eyes widening, notice the odd lusty moan mixed in with the screams and sobs. “There we go, good girl…” I’ll purr as your body begins to betray you. “I can see it, you’re starting to enjoy it, enjoy the idea of swelling with my baby. It’s what you’re made by nature for, after all. All that you’re supposed to do in life, get pregnant and give birth, whether you want it or not…”

You’ll feel me starting to jerk and twitch inside of you as I restrain myself. But the throbbing, the movement, it’s overwhelming you, tension builds inside. I’ll know it’s almost time because you’ll start begging for me to stop. Feeling how close I am to forcing an orgasm from you, even though I’m violating you.

Then I’ll make the offer. “If you can hold off longer than me, I’ll pull out. Just don’t cum before I do, and you can leave the same person you started as. But if you cum, so will I. If you let yourself cum while being raped pregnant.. well, I guess it means you enjoyed having my rape baby fucked into your cute little tummy…”

You’ll resist, of course. But you’ll only do so for so long. Your legs will kick as you fight, then you’ll plant your feet, arching them as your body locks up. Your mouth open in a silent cry, your womb contracting steadily. As shameful pleasure overwhelms you, I’ll praise you. “Good girl! I knew you wanted to be a mommy!”

Then, my warm cum will thud dully against your twitching cervix. Sperm flooding your vulnerable uterus. Seeking an egg. Finding one.

By the time I withdraw with a disgusting sucking noise, the a single sperm has already penetrated your egg. By the time you pick yourself up, the one cell has become two. Then four. By the time you near home, a hollow ball has formed, nestled into the lining of your womb.

My baby.

I’ll visit you every month. Forcing myself inside you, not cumming until after you do, always making the same deal. And every time you fail, as hormones make you more sensitive, I’ll praise you. Compliment you on how much you must like getting raped, how happy you must be to have my unwanted offspring growing inside you. I’ll take pictures of your body, note your progress, and vanish.

You’ll see them on sites like this, everyone able to note every change as I brag about what I did to you, passing it off as sweet fiction. You’ll start to show, bit by terrible bit. You won’t be able to deny to yourself what that firm, warm bump is.

Over time you won’t be able to hide it either. Your closest friends will see you swell with my rape baby. Your family will see that the one who violated you left his seed growing inside your belly. I wonder what you’ll tell them? Deny it entirely, even though it’s obvious? Admit you were raped? Try to say it was an ex boyfriend or something?

Either way, they’ll be disappointed, upset, disturbed. Your friends will grow distant as your midriff ripens, knowing that pregnancy means you’re less fun to be around, let alone after you deliver your unasked for infant. Your family will likely be less than supportive as well, offering vague condolences tinged with scorn or contempt for getting yourself knocked up while single.

It will come to feel like it’s just you and the constant reminder of that horrible day. Well… And my monthly visits. I rub your belly while I sensually stimulate you, and you can’t deny how good it feels to have someone gently massaging your bump. Me telling you how amazing and beautiful you look full of my child are the only compliments you’ve been hearing lately.

You reach full term. You come home after having labor pains all day. You already know I’m here. I strip you completely, lay you on your bed, where I have cameras set up. Hundreds of thousands of people are going to see you scream out my rape baby. But for now, it’s just you and me.

I rub your belly during contractions, sucking and licking on your clit. I don’t even have to restrain you, the pain of labor is enough on its own.

Your waters break.

You feel the need to push.

The head starts to slide into your birth canal.

The pain and pressure are unbearable as you labor with your rapist’s child, but almost worse is the constant attention from me. My hands gently stroking your gravid midriff. My mouth doing such amazing things between your legs. You’ve never been attended to like this, never felt such intense primal pleasure.

As you push, a different tension builds, one horrifyingly familiar, one you’ve felt every month. You plead for me to stop, not to make you do this, not while you give birth. You can’t let everyone see, it can’t feel like this!

I ignore you. The baby moves lower as you push desperately, filling you in a way you never have been before. Making you feel feminine in a way you couldn’t have imagines. And I give your molten nub one strong suck as your crotch begins to bulge, the child I’m forcing you to give birth to on the verge of opening you.

It’s too much. The spasms aid your birth, and the sensations of birth hurt more than you could have imagined, mingling with the orgasm to become a whole new sensation.

I’m torturing you with agonizing pleasure.

Forcing your body to betray you in every possible way, pushing out my baby, orgasming while you do it.

You start crowning, as I compliment you on what a good mommy you are. Your climax somehow heightens as the ring of fire ignites. Then grows quickly.

Your whole world revolves into pleasure and pain, sex and birth, me and you, primal desires and lust mixing with deep shame and humiliation.

You keep pushing. And, at long last, you cum my rape baby out of your convulsing pussy.

I gather my equipment as you come down, exhausted and horrified with yourself. I promise you that I’ll be back soon, that you never have to worry about having another period again.

Meanwhile, my unwanted offspring lays between your thighs, still attached to you, covered with amniotic fluid and girlcum.

As I said in the beginning, I don’t want to rape you. I want to leave you questioning who and what you are. Asking why you can never stop yourself from cumming even though you don’t want this. Why your body made a baby for me, why you had an orgasm while you delivered it.

Maybe you would keep denying it, fighting all the harder when I came back, though still unable to stop me, or yourself.

But my hope is you would accept that, regardless of your mind, you were born female, and that having that pretty slit between your legs means that you were made by nature to take in seed and scream out babies, regardless of your hopes and dreams and desires.

**Author's Note:**

> I've edited it for typos but its still in the same form as it was on the blog. If you wrote this and want credit, or if you have the contact info from the blog I would love to get in contact with you!!!! Thanks for reading!!!


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